


Not Your Enemy

by hellosterek



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-19
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-02-13 19:49:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2163009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellosterek/pseuds/hellosterek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek doesn't trust the deputy or want his help, but Parrish resolves to help him anyway.<br/>Or maybe it's the other way around...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Need Me

**Author's Note:**

> Just something I started writing recently and just got around to posting. It's not entirely finished, obviously, but I'm glad to have material on here. There has been a serious lack of Darrish on here and on Tumblr so I thought I'd help fill the void. I love this pairing quite a lot, in all honesty. I hope I can convince you to love them too! :)

 

Derek rolled his eyes as a badge was presented to him and he lifted an eyebrow in unamused question.

"Derek Hale," the officer greeted stiffly, pressing by him.

Derek sighed and opened his arms, sarcastically biting out, "Yes, please, come in."

The officer's lips quirked at the edges and his serious facade cracked, his eyes moving down the man's body, lingering on his sweatpants-clad legs and his unkempt hair. "You don't look like you've been anywhere this morning."

The officer's eyes roamed the loft, settling on the mess of papers and books on the coffee table and the half-empty bowl of cereal balancing on the arm of the couch.

"That's because I haven't," Derek grunted, crossing his arms over his chest and wondering why the deputy was in his home.

The officer looked back at him, the grin returning as he eyed the man in front of him. "Do you remember me?"

Derek blinked, keeping his expression carefully blank. "We've met before, Deputy Parrish."

Parrish's smile widened and he hooked his thumbs in his belt. "Multiple times, actually. Call me Jordan."

Derek blinked again, frowning slightly. "I only recall meeting you once, Parrish."

Parrish's jaw clicked as he suppressed a grin, hiding it as he scratched at his jaw. His gaze fell to the floor and he chuckled. "Maybe you wouldn't remember the first time. You were kind of young."

Parrish chanced a look at Derek, noticing the way he kept his expression guarded, never allowing himself to show surprise or confusion. It just made the deputy even more curious.

It was clear in the tension of Derek's shoulders and the tautness of his jaw that he knew what Parrish was referring to, even if he wasn't willing to admit it. That was really all Parrish needed to continue.

"I thought you were new to town," Derek stated, his tone edging toward cautious. His eyes swept down the front of Parrish, reading his body language and calculating the man's intentions. Parrish didn't intend on coming here to pry the answers out of Derek, but now that he had Derek in front of him, he was finding it hard to keep his questioning at bay. He was naturally inquisitive, which was what made him an excellent cop. At least, that was what everyone told him.

"I am," Parrish replied unabashedly. He wasn't a fan of dancing around topics and beating around the bush. He was straightforward and honest. If Derek outright asked him what he meant, he'd say it, but Derek's hesitance to explore the topic piqued Parrish's interest. Derek knew what Parrish was referring to and was attempting to steer the conversation in another direction. Parrish, on the other hand, happened to be an excellent interrogator. He'd get the answers out of Derek before he even realized what he'd admitted.

Derek's expression gave nothing away, even as his eyes narrowed into a scowl, but Parrish knew that he had him in the palm of his hand.

Parrish smirked. "Just tell me, Derek." He took a few calm steps forward, his thumbs still in his belt. He glanced at the small table near the door and grabbed the book sitting on top. He flipped it over and feigned reading the title, aware of Derek breathing angrily through his nose while he watched him. Parrish's smirk widened as he dropped the book back down in disinterest, glancing up at Derek from beneath his lashes. "Is time travel real? That's really the only explanation I can think of for what happened."

Derek's expression faltered and then relaxed, and Parrish quickly knew his mistake. Derek's eyebrows furrowed in amusement and he shook his head, grinning. "Time travel? Really? Are you sure you should be wearing a badge?"

Derek snorted and shook his head again, walking over to pick up his half-empty bowl from the side of the couch and bringing it into the kitchen. He didn't look to see if Parrish was following, but Parrish didn't think it was a dismissal, so he followed. He wandered in after him, rolling a string he'd pulled off his shirt between his fingers, and quirked his head to the side as he leaned against the doorway.

"Then enlighten me, Derek," he stated calmly, raising his eyebrows expectantly when Derek glared at him in annoyance. "I want to know how it's possible that you were in our station a few days ago as a little kid-"

"I'd hardly call 17 little," Derek growled before grimacing, averting his glare to the floor as he gripped the side of the sink.

Parrish grinned, stepping into the kitchen. "I'd call it impossible when you're standing in front of me right now as a man in his mid-20's."

When Derek didn't respond, Parrish stepped closer, staying mindful of Derek's body language. He didn't know the man very well and didn't know when something would make him snap. He was probably already pushing his luck, but Derek didn't seem ready to hit him yet, so he was deeming it a success.

"If it wasn't time travel, then what was it, Derek?" he pushed, edging a little closer. His eyes fell to the white of Derek's knuckles and he paused, knowing he was pushing a bit too hard.

"I don't know what it was," Derek finally admitted, his jaw taut and his shoulders tense. "Someone changed me back into a teenager and I don't know how or why."

"Someone-" Parrish furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, taking a step back and frowning. He had been so sure it was time travel, but apparently he'd been wrong. Someone had changed Derek into a teenager? Why would anyone do something like that? "But I don't understand. How could someone do that? Does magic exist?"

Derek huffed in annoyance and rolled his eyes, turning to face Parrish with his arms crossed. "It's not like magic in the movies, Parrish, if that's what you're thinking. This isn't an episode of Harry Potter-"

"Movie," Parrish corrected, biting his tongue when Derek scowled at him.

"Magic like that doesn't exist," Derek continued. "But there are things in this world that you'd be surprised do exist. I don't know how she turned me back into a teenager, but she did it. I'm not as concerned about the how as I am the why."

Parrish considered this for a moment, pushing his thumbs back into his belt. That was the one downside to the belts they wore while on the job, they always got in the way.

"You said 'she'," he pointed out after a minute, carefully watching Derek's reaction. "So, you know who did it?"

Derek hesitated, glancing away from Parrish and contemplating lying. Parrish would be able to know the lie from the truth though. Even the best liars didn't seem to fool him. Plus, Derek figured he didn't really have anything to lose anymore. He was already losing his powers. "I do."

"Who was it?" he questioned hesitantly, not knowing if Derek would bother answering.

Derek surprised him by answering immediately, his expression blank, "My ex."

Parrish's eyes widened at that. "But why would she-"

At Derek's unimpressed expression, Parrish stopped. He cleared his throat. Of course. Derek had just told him he didn't know why she'd done it. He scratched at the back of his neck and looked around the room.

"She must hate you," he commented lightly, noticing the anger flashing in Derek's eyes and knowing he'd hit a sensitive topic.

Derek scoffed, rolling his eyes and pushing past the deputy to return to the living room, where he dropped down onto the couch and glanced around the coffee table at the stack of books. He raised an eyebrow in Parrish's direction, pointedly nodding toward the door. "Is that all, Deputy, or were you going to waste more of my time?"

Parrish frowned, but took a step in that direction anyway, knowing Derek wouldn't be answering any more of his questions.

"Sorry, I guess," he mumbled, taking a few steps backwards. "For being such an inconvenience."

Something in Derek's expression changed, but he merely lowered his head and got back to work, flipping through books and circling things on the pages. Parrish sighed and made his way to the door, feeling incredibly unproductive. He'd gotten answers, but he was nowhere near figuring anything out. There was still a gaping hole in the mystery that needed to be solved. It was clear from Derek's behavior, however, that he wouldn't be helping anytime soon.

Perhaps later on, Parrish would offer his help to Derek, maybe they'd be able to figure it out together, but for now it was best not to push the subject. He'd already stepped on Derek's toes too much that day. The last thing he wanted was for Derek to dislike or distrust him. That wouldn't get either of them anywhere. For now, it was best to leave things as they were. He'd get Derek to crack eventually. One way or another.


	2. We Need Each Other

 

Parrish glanced between Scott, Lydia, and Derek as they all stood in the middle of the loft, his eyebrows high on his forehead as they spoke cryptically.

“What are you?” he finally questioned, watching the small exchange between Scott and Derek. Derek shrugged and nodded at Parrish. Scott sighed, but turned to the deputy. Parrish watched in a mixture of fascination and extreme confusion as Scott’s eyes bled red and his teeth elongated. He glanced between all of them nervously and when he looked back at Scott, he saw his face morph and the hair grow along his jaw and cheeks. He felt himself go a little lightheaded at the sight. He knew they were all something, but this wasn’t exactly what he had in mind. He swallowed roughly. “What-?”

“Werewolves,” Scott explained, the word hissed between long canines. He held out his hands and Parrish hesitantly took one, turning it over in apprehensive fascination. The claws looked long and sturdy enough to rip through flesh, the hands wrapped in taut muscle and skin that felt like tough leather. He imagined them in a fight and knew immediately no one would stand a chance. He lifted an inquisitive eyebrow at Scott when he finally looked away.

“Werewolves,” Parrish muttered slowly, as if tasting the word on his tongue for the first time. He blinked and looked at Derek. “What are you?”

Derek’s calm expression contorted and he cleared his throat uncomfortably, casting a wary glance at Lydia and Scott. His lips pulled down at the edges and he crossed his arms tightly over his chest. “Human.” He looked determinedly back at Parrish, expression returning to the stoic facade he so often wore. “I was a werewolf until a few weeks ago.”

The pieces clicked easily for the deputy, being so used to figuring out puzzles, and his mouth fell open in understanding, his eyes flitting across Derek’s face as he remembered him as a teenager. “When you were turned into a teenager…”

“When I turned back, something was different,” Derek confirmed, nodding stiffly. He shifted uncomfortably under the weight of Scott’s gaze and glanced to the floor. “I lost my powers.”

“So, you’re like me,” Parrish inquired, taking the opportunity to look him over properly. He didn’t seem entirely intimidating, but Parrish knew a few people would feel uncomfortable approaching the temperamental man and probably wouldn’t even think about starting a fight with him. There would be a few, however, that would if given the chance, merely to prove that they weren’t afraid to.

Derek shook his head, hand going back to Parrish’s and turning it over as he inspected it. “I’m not like you.” He glanced up at the deputy uneasily. “I would have burned in that fire.”

A long, tense silence settled over the group as Scott and Lydia exchanged a look. Lydia rolled her eyes and grabbed Scott’s arm, fixing the two men with a strained smile. “Scott and I need to talk.” Her eyes flicked quickly to Parrish before she raised her eyebrows at Derek. “About things.”

Derek averted his gaze to the floor and nodded, barely hearing her.

“We’ll talk later, Derek,” Scott said pointedly, his hand cupping Derek’s shoulder briefly, before following Lydia out of the loft.

Derek returned his attention to the hand in his, turning it over again and again, as if it held all the answers he was looking for, as if it would tell him all he needed to know about surviving a fire. The information would have come in handy when he was 17 the first time around. It wouldn’t mean anything to him now.

“How did you do it?” Derek found himself questioning, his voice quiet and unobtrusive.

Parrish watched him closely, noticing the faraway look in his eyes, and frowned. “I’d tell you if I knew.”

Derek sighed and dropped Parrish’s hands, moving to the couch and sitting down. He sat quietly, twisting his hands together.

Parrish hesitantly stepped toward him, thinking over his words before speaking. “Your family…”

“Died in a fire,” Derek confirmed.

Parrish’s heart sunk at the sad and resigned look on the man’s face. He’d already known what had happened to the Hale family. Everyone in Beacon Hills knew, even the ones who hadn’t been around when it happened. But to hear Derek talk about it, to openly address what had happened and be so blunt about it, it sort of made Parrish uncomfortable - it made him want to fix things somehow, but he knew he couldn’t.

“Your ex…” Parrish began, edging toward a question he didn’t really want to ask.

“Was the one to set the house on fire,” Derek finished for him, his expression guarded and his voice even. There was something very experienced in the way Derek talked about it, like he’d practiced for years before being able to address it without falling apart. Then again, maybe he had. After having to deal with the town’s pity for so long, maybe it was something he’d had to grow accustomed to.

It surprised Parrish how angry it made him that Derek had to get accustomed to it at all. What happened wasn’t fair, it wasn’t just. It wasn’t what Parrish went to work for, to let things like that go unnoticed and uninvestigated. He became a police officer to prevent things like that and to bring people closure. Derek would never be able to have that, not with his ex still out there and his family still dead.

“Derek-” Parrish began.

“Don’t apologize for something that’s not your fault,” Derek interrupted, his knuckles turning white as he twisted his hands tightly together. He was tired of hearing people say they were sorry for his family’s death. It didn’t matter how many people said it or how many times he heard it, it would never be okay. All their words did was make him feel worse about it. It wasn’t their fault it happened anyway, it was Kate’s. Her apology wouldn’t even be enough to rectify what she did, not that he really expected to ever get a sincere one from her.

“I wasn’t going to,” Parrish said after a moment, taking a seat beside him and hesitantly pulling his hands apart. He frowned at the crescent marks in Derek’s skin from where his blunt fingernails had dug in and smoothed a thumb over them. He glanced up at Derek’s guarded expression and forced a small smile. “I was going to say that we’re going to figure this out.” He turned Derek’s hand over and examined his palm, his mouth set in a firm line. “We’ll get your powers back.”

Derek let himself relax, a small smile twitching at his lips, and slid the fingers of his free hand around Parrish’s wrist, twisting it around to mimic the deputy. He smirked at Parrish’s quirked eyebrow and licked his lips. “And we’ll figure out what you are.”

Parrish returned his smile and nodded, flexing his fingers around Derek’s hand before letting go. He pushed himself up onto his feet and wiped his hands on his jeans, surprised to find them clammy from the man’s gentle touch. He nodded and cleared his throat. “I should get going. Duty calls.”

Derek smirked, lifting an eyebrow, catching the lie easily without having to hear the stutter of his heart. He got to his feet and joined the deputy by the door. “Then I’ll see you later.”

Parrish smiled warmly and nodded, shrugging into his jacket. “Yeah, you guys can’t expect to get rid of me so easily now that you’ve sprung all this on me.” He rolled his eyes. “I mean, seriously, werewolves?”

Derek snorted and shook his head. “You’ll get used to it.”

Parrish’s eyes lit up as he eyed Derek closely for a moment. “Will I?”

Derek shrugged with a smile. “Hopefully.”

The deputy raised his eyebrows, but didn’t respond as he slipped into his shoes. “Thanks for introducing me to the world of supernatural.”

Derek huffed a laugh and opened the door for him, rolling his eyes. “I figured you needed to know since you’re sort of one of us.”

“Yeah…” Parrish stated slowly, shaking his head in wonder. “Weird how I didn’t know that until now.”

Derek clapped a hand over his shoulder and gave him a meaningful look. “We’ll figure it out, Jordan.”

Parrish’s grin returned. “Thanks, Derek.”

Derek chewed on the inside of his cheek to fight off his smile and shook his head. “Thank you, _Jordan_.”

Jordan walked away from Derek that afternoon with even more questions than he’d had originally, but at least he had some answers too. He hadn’t gotten Derek to explain everything and trust him just yet, but he was getting closer and he considered that a success. Now he just needed to figure out what the hell he was and find out how to get Derek his powers back. Maybe he’d even hunt down Derek’s demon ex and do some justice after all. He could only hope that it would be that easy.


	3. Like a Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More like a nightmare.

 

Jordan woke up with a gasp, his lungs filling rapidly with heady smoke. Coughing and turning onto his side, he attempted to duck beneath the cloud of smoke above him, but found himself unable to escape it. When he finally opened his eyes, it was like every nerve in his body came to life at once, his body engulfed in flames that burned the sheets and mattress beneath him into ashes. He tried to pat himself down and felt his throat burn as he swallowed down more of the smoke that was rising from his skin. His eyes burned at the exposure and he finally rolled himself off the bed and landed on the floor with a thud, his entire body aching.

What the hell was happening? Why was he on fire? Who had set the fire this time? He groaned and rolled across the floor, faintly aware of the fire detector going off down the hall. He knew it was only a matter of time before the fire department got there and he knew they couldn’t see him like this, not when he was only going to heal in a matter of hours. How would he ever explain that to a doctor? The sheriff had promised to cover up the car fire, but he wouldn’t be able to explain multiple incidents.

Suddenly, he felt hands underneath him and flailed, grasping at his attacker’s hands as he felt something in his chest tighten and burn. He heard someone shout, but couldn’t see through his blurred vision, and fought as he was dragged out of the room. Arms wrapped around his body and clumsily lifted him up to roll him over the edge of the tub, where he landed roughly, with a thump to the back of his head. He cursed and yelped when the shower head started spraying cold water. He felt his heartbeat stutter as the flames were slowly put out and felt the pressure in his chest lighten, his energy dwindling.

Blinking his eyes tiredly, he glanced up when he heard someone come back into the room. He noticed Derek nursing a few burns on his arms and chest, but closed his eyes, trying not to think too hard about Derek's health. He would have to thank him later, maybe after he figured out why the hell Derek had been in his home in the first place.

**

He woke up to the sound of sirens and opened his eyes warily, glancing toward the sound. Derek stood a few paces away with the sheriff and the fire chief next to a line of emergency vehicles. He furrowed his eyebrows and tried to move, but nearly lost his balance on the gurney he was laying on and accidentally tugged at the oxygen mask covering his face. He searched for a paramedic, finding a familiar face and clearing his throat to get her attention.

The woman turned to him, relief brightening her eyes as she smiled at him, placing her hands on his shoulder and elbow to help him sit up. “How are you feeling?”

He removed the mask and tried to talk, but winced at the scratchiness in his throat. “Been better, I guess.”

She smiled sympathetically and offered him a water bottle to drink from, rubbing at his shoulder. “You’re lucky Derek Hale was here to find you. Any longer and the fire would have spread.”

He blinked at her in confusion. “I - what?”

She narrowed her eyes at him, eyeing him more closely. “You fell asleep in the bathroom.” She raised an eyebrow at him, casting a glance toward the back of the ambulance. “How much do you remember?”

Jordan panicked, but cleared his throat with a shrug. “I - yeah, that’s all I remember. Falling asleep.” He saw Derek look at him out of the corner of his eye, but ignored it as he focused on trying to rid the paramedic of her suspicion. The last thing he wanted was to be taken to the hospital for a more formal checkup. “There was a fire? Do they know how it started?”

“Not yet,” she spoke slowly, appearing satisfied enough with his answer as she began packing her supplies away. “They need to do an investigation. They think it was arson, but need to make sure. It’ll probably take a few days.”

“Yeah,” he replied distractedly, already knowing how that sort of thing worked. He probably wasn’t going to be allowed back into his home for a few days, at the very least. He sighed. He didn’t have anywhere to go. All of his family lived out of state.

He ran a frustrated hand through his hair and forced a courteous smile at the paramedic as she clapped him on the shoulder and went to talk to Sheriff Stilinski. Derek approached him slowly, his hands shoved deeply into his pockets.

Jordan noticed the bandages covering his arms and frowned. “You’re hurt.”

Derek glanced down at them, blinking a couple times, and shrugged. “Yeah, that’s what happens when you’re human.” He gave the deputy a significant look, raising his eyebrows.

Jordan shifted uncomfortably on the gurney, tugging the blanket tighter around him. He suddenly felt a lot more exposed and vulnerable than he had before. He had to admit that he was worried. Lighting his car on fire was one thing, but attacking him in his sleep? In his home? That was another thing entirely. There was no real way of knowing when he was safe and when he wasn’t. People were out there, trying to kill him, and he had no idea how to stop them.

“Hey,” Derek knocked his hand against Jordan’s knee. “We’ll figure it out.”

Jordan nodded and swallowed roughly, keeping his head bowed. He was itching to say thank you, to explain that Derek didn’t have to help him, but couldn’t bring himself to say anything.

Luckily, the sheriff joined them before he could. “So, do you want the good news or the bad news?”

Jordan looked up at him with raised eyebrows, noticing that Derek didn’t look all that surprised or interested in the conversation. Jordan figured the two of them had already discussed everything while he was unconscious. “How can there be good news?”

Stilinski huffed and rolled his eyes. “Alright, so there’s no good news.”

Jordan blinked, waiting for him to continue.

“I’m sure you know you’re gonna have to vacate the house for a little while, stay at a friend's or something,” he muttered, scratching at the back of his head. “But I just got off the phone with the board of commissioners and they’re not too thrilled about you going back to work.” Jordan opened his mouth to protest, but the sheriff held up his hand. “I know you’re fine, but most people wouldn’t be after something like this. They’re concerned for your well-being and I think it would be wise that you take a break until we figure out who set the fire. Your safety comes first.”

“You’re saying I’d be safer at a friend’s house than in a room full of cops?” Jordan questioned, irritated.

The sheriff shot him a flat look. “With the number of deputies that have been put in the hospital over the past year? Yeah, I do. Look, Parrish, my hands are tied. The board will come down hard on me if I don’t do what they ask. It’s only temporary. As soon as we solve this case, you can come back, but right now you’re being labeled a victim and we can’t have you interfering with the investigation. Call a friend, make the arrangements to get away for a while. God knows you need the vacation.”

Jordan bit back on a rude remark and scowled at the ground, feeling the sheriff’s hand on his shoulder before the man muttered a quiet apology and left. Jordan swore, tugging the blanket tighter around him as he stood up from the gurney. He allowed himself to be checked over one last time by the paramedics before he was allowed to go inside and pack up a few things. He felt Derek behind him as he moved through the house, slowing down as he reached his bedroom.

The room was a disaster. Along with the burned and tattered bed covers and black-streaked wall, the dresser had been overturned and papers littered the room. It didn’t look like a simple arson case, it looked like a robbery.

Feeling a hand on his shoulder, Jordan snapped out of his daze and sighed, lifting the dresser up from the floor and watching as the drawers slid out, clattering to the floor. He swore and pushed the dresser over forcibly, kicking at the wood. He was so frustrated, so  _angry_ , that this was happening to him. He hadn’t  _asked_  to be superhuman, he hadn’t made a  _choice_ , but that didn’t seem to matter to whoever was hunting him. All they cared about was their damn money. His life was expendable.

“We’re going to find who did this,” Derek stated from somewhere behind him.

Jordan ignored him in favor of gathering the clothes that had survived off the floor and shoving them into a bag he found in his closet. He didn’t see how they would ever figure out who had done this. From what Stiles had said, these were experienced killers. They’d know how to cover their tracks. They weren’t stupid. And that meant they'd find Jordan and when they did they would kill him.

The bag was grabbed from his hands and he grit his teeth, turning to look at Derek, who seemed far too calm for the situation. “What were you even doing here, Derek? Why were you at my house in the middle of the night?”

Derek’s expression remained stoic as he shoved a few more clothes into the bag before zipping it up and grabbing at Jordan’s arm to pull him back toward the hallway. “Scott and I have been taking turns watching you. We figured Haigh wouldn’t be the only one to come after you.”

“And  _what_? You thought you’d be able to take on an assassin?” Jordan demanded, pulling out of Derek’s hold. He glared at the man, annoyed that he and Scott were making him out to be some damsel in distress. He didn’t need their help. He motioned to Derek’s arms with wide eyes. “Look at yourself, Derek! You could have gotten yourself killed! And for  _what_? We both know I would have survived that fire."

Derek’s jaw tightened and he curled his hands into fists, glancing away from the deputy. “Are you going to keep yelling at me for saving you or are you ready to leave?”

Jordan narrowed his eyes. “Where the hell am I supposed to go, Derek? I don’t have many friends in Beacon Hills.”

Derek rolled his eyes and continued to pull him along, leading him toward the doorway. “You’re staying with me.”

Jordan’s eyes widened as he was led outside, to Derek’s car. Derek tossed his bag into the backseat and got in the driver’s seat. Jordan felt the fight leave him and looked over his shoulder at his house, watching as his colleagues wandered in and out, a few shooting him sympathetic frowns when they saw him. He forced a small smile and slid into the passenger seat, laying his head back and closing his eyes. He just wanted to forget that this night had even happened. He was too tired to deal with it anymore.

Derek didn’t say anything as Jordan buckled up and they drove away, but after a few moments of silence, Jordan felt Derek’s knuckles brush up against his reassuringly and he sighed, letting himself relax. He was still being hunted, his house had almost burned down, and he was out of work for a while...but he was safe. At least, for now.


	4. Sooner or Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They'll figure it out...sooner or later...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took me so long to update! I've been swamped with work at college and I'm currently working two jobs, so things are a bit crazy! I'll try to update this again soon! I have a vague idea of what I'm doing with the next chapter, so I'll try to get it up as soon as possible! Thank you for all the kudos, reads, and subscriptions! I'm so glad you guys are enjoying this story! It means so much to me! Okay, I'm going to stop talking so you guys can read! I love you<333

 

 

Jordan woke up the next morning with a pounding in his head. He groaned and rolled over, panicking when the surface gave way and he fell to the floor. He yelped when he landed, rubbing at his head. A stutter of footsteps echoed across the landing and Jordan furrowed his eyebrows, forgetting for a moment that he was at Derek’s loft.

“This is the second time in the past twenty-four hours that I’ve found you like this,” Derek commented, laughter in his voice.

When Jordan glanced up at him, he noticed that Derek’s lips were twitching at the edges, seconds away from a smile. He blinked, a bit stunned. He couldn’t recall seeing Derek smile before, especially not a smile that he had to fight off.

Derek cleared his throat and nodded toward Jordan’s lower half.

Jordan glanced down at himself, his eyes wide as he quickly reached for the comforter, pulling it free from the tangle of linen on the bed. He covered himself with the heavy fabric, looking back at Derek in horror. “Why the hell was I naked?”

Derek’s jaw worked for a moment, as if he were barely containing laughter. He shook his head. “Don’t look at me. You were fully dressed when you went to bed last night.”

The events of the previous night came back to him and Jordan suddenly felt light-headed. He laid his head back against the floor and stared at the ceiling, remembering the fire as it licked at his skin and the smoke as it buried into his lungs. How he couldn’t breathe in the suffocating heat of the room. How, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t move.

“Parrish!” Derek yelled, shaking him furiously.

It wasn’t until Derek called to him that Jordan realized he was shaking. His hands quivered as he wiped them over his face. These fires seemed to be following him and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t escape. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw fire. He had to keep his eyes open. He couldn’t let his guard down. Even with Derek there to keep him safe, the assassin had found a way into his home. How could anyone possibly keep him safe from people who killed for a living?

“Get dressed,” Derek ordered gruffly, tossing a pair of boxers at Jordan’s face. He went to the door and paused, not bothering to glance back as Jordan quickly slipped into some clothes. “You need to eat.”

Jordan didn’t feel like eating. Even though the food smelled amazing (and definitely wasn’t something Derek made himself, as noted by the styrofoam boxes in the trash), the thought of consuming anything made Jordan sick. There were people out there, trying to kill him, and he was expected to eat a smorgasbord of food. There was no logic.

“Eat,” Derek ordered softly, pushing some eggs onto Jordan’s plate and taking some for himself. Derek chewed on his food slowly, watching Jordan with stoic eyes.

That was one thing that Jordan hated about the man. No matter how much time he spent with him, Jordan couldn’t read him. There was no way of knowing if he was angry, upset, happy, or annoyed. He just...was. It irritated Jordan, but it also made him feel sorry for the man. It had probably taken years of practice to perfect such an unassuming expression.

When Jordan didn’t touch his food, Derek sighed and set down his fork, crossing his arms on the table. He raised an eyebrow at the deputy, waiting for the question he’d known was coming.

“What did you see last night, Derek?” Jordan questioned carefully, pushing his food around on his plate. He avoided looking at Derek, afraid of what he’d see - if he’d see anything at all.

“Nothing,” Derek sighed, sitting back in his chair, and that made Jordan look at the man in surprise. Derek took a sip of his coffee and shook his head, his eyebrows drawing together in frustration. “I didn’t see anything. Everything seemed fine up until your fire alarm went off.”

Derek glanced up at Jordan and Jordan was surprised to see so much anger there. It seemed that what had happened last night had affected more than just Jordan. Derek was worried about it too.

“There was no one but you in your apartment from what I saw,” Derek stated, licking his lips in thought. “Besides the mess in your room, there was no evidence of a break-in either. Everything was in place. No broken locks, shattered or open windows, and no foreign footprints other than mine. It was like nobody else was there.”

Jordan set his fork down carefully, sitting back in his chair and thinking about this information. Nobody else had been in his apartment? But then who had set the fire? Or, better yet, how had the person covered their trail so easily? He frowned. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It doesn’t,” Derek agreed, lowering his gaze to the coffee cup in his hands. He tapped his nail against the handle pensively. He’d never seen anything like it before. Even hunters made mistakes, but whoever had been in Jordan’s home had made none. He sighed and got to his feet, grabbing his plate and bringing it to the sink. “Stiles and Lydia are at your house right now, going over everything. They’re looking for anything out of the ordinary.”

“They’re not cops,” Jordan pointed out with furrowed eyebrows, getting to his feet. “They’re not trained-”

“They have more experience in the supernatural than anyone on your police force,” Derek interrupted, dropping his dishes into the sink and lifting a challenging eyebrow at Jordan. “If anyone can figure out how the assassin got in, they can.”

At Jordan’s uncertain expression, Derek sighed and crossed the room to sit in the chair beside the distraught deputy.

“We’ll figure this out,” Derek stressed. He pushed the barely touched plate of food closer to Jordan. He pointed at it with a stern glare. “Now eat.”

**

It was around noon when Derek got a call from Stiles. He put the call on speaker to keep Jordan from reaching for the phone.

“There’s no possible way that anyone got in last night, Derek,” Stiles argued, the annoyance clear in his voice.

“Stiles-” Derek began angrily.

“No,” Stiles interrupted. “Possible. Way.”

“Did you find anything at all?” Derek bit out in annoyance, pinching the bridge of his noise. “Or are you just wasting my time?”

There was a scuffling on the other side of the phone and a yelp from Stiles before Lydia’s voice came over the phone. “Derek, Stiles is right. We couldn’t find any evidence of a break-in last night. Not unless you know of a creature that can apparate from one place to another.” Stiles said something on the other end, which sounded suspiciously like “Harry Potter,” but Lydia hushed him. She sighed. “Look, we don’t have any information about what attacked Parrish last night, but we did find something.”

“What did you find?” Derek asked after an overly dramatic silence.

“There was some sort of mixture of herbs on Parrish’s bed. We’re thinking it was used to set the fire,” Lydia supplied. “We’ve collected some samples and are bringing them to Deaton’s to be analyzed. Maybe if we can classify them, we can figure out what it is that’s after Parrish-”

“Or who it is that’s boobytrapped his home,” Derek finished for her, glancing sideways at Jordan, who sat wide-eyed on the couch beside him.

“Exactly,” Lydia agreed, pride evident in her voice. “Maybe whoever did this was in his house before the fire was even set. Maybe it was a trap.”

Jordan swallowed roughly and pulled his legs up onto the couch, pulling his knees to his chest and resting his chin on them. Someone had set a trap for him in his own home? That wasn’t exactly the most reassuring thing to hear. He gnawed on his lower lip and stared at the coffee table, lost in thought. Who would do this to him? He hadn’t _done_ anything to anyone.

“Alright, thanks Lydia,” Derek muttered, eyes on Jordan as he shrank in on himself. “Keep me updated.”

“Will do,” Lydia chirped before the line died.

Derek lowered the volume on his phone and set it on the coffee table, watching Jordan carefully. “Well, at least we know nobody found a way into your house last night.”

Jordan pursed his lips, blinking dazedly. “Yeah, they were just there when I wasn’t and set a trap for me.”

Derek frowned, slapping his hand against Jordan’s arm to get his attention. “Hey, we will figure this out.”

Jordan nodded unbelievingly, returning his gaze to the coffee table. The more Derek said that, the less he believed it. Whoever was after Jordan didn’t want to be caught. Jordan didn't think it was a mystery capable of being solved.


	5. Dust to Dust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few things are revealed and angst happens.

 

The flickering of the flame attracted Parrish’s attention and he followed it closely with his eyes. He moved his eyes from side to side with it, anticipating its next move.

“I could do it, you know.”

Parrish averted his attention to the man behind the lighter's flame, noticing the vacant eyes watching him. Derek’s lips curved into a frown, his tongue curling around his teeth, as he looked at Parrish. “I could end this for both of us.” Derek’s eyes moved back to the flame, his head tilting to the side as he turned the lighter in his hand. “There would be no more running, no more pain, no more fear…”

Parrish grit his teeth, shifting his wrists and ankles against the bed. He craned his neck to look down at himself, curling his hands into fists as he tried in vain to break free from the metal chains. “Derek, let me go.”

Derek smirked, flipping the lighter shut before opening it again, watching as the flame came back to life with a swift movement of his finger. He shook his head with a chuckle. “No, I’m not gonna do that. You see-” Derek leaned forward and snapped the lighter shut with a wide grin. “-I know what you are.”

Parrish observed Derek closely, narrowing his eyes. “No, you don’t.”

“Why would I lie?” Derek bit in, raising an eyebrow. He shrugged, fiddling with the lighter in his hand. “I’ve known what you are this whole time, Parrish.” Flipping the lighter open, Derek slid forward suddenly, igniting the flame with a roll of his thumb. He held the flame dangerously close to Parrish’s face, making Parrish jerk back. “It’s been me this whole time, Parrish. Did you really think it was a coincidence that I was there when you were set on fire? That they couldn’t find any evidence of a break in?” Derek gripped at Parrish’s shirt and pulled him close, Parrish’s wrist snagging against the restraint. “Did you really think I’d protect you? That any of us would protect you?”

Parrish spluttered, cringing away from the burn of the flame as it touched his skin. “I-I don’t -- why are you doing this?”

“I told you,” Derek growled, pulling Parrish closer. “I know what you are.” He touched the lighter to the bed sheets, his nails elongating into claws that ripped through the collar of the deputy’s shirt as he pulled away. “And you have to die.”

Parrish gasped and jumped away from the growing flames, screaming as the chains pulled him back to the bed, forcing him to endure the fire. He looked at Derek helplessly as the man backed away. His eyes were gleaming a bright blue and his lips were curled into a snarl. Parrish shook his head, feeling his own eyes burning as the smoke began to furl into the air. He screamed when the fire reached his skin and he strained against the bed.

“ _Jordan_!”

Parrish flailed, screaming and fighting against the hand that landed on his arm. He reached out blindly with his freed hand, touching a hand to the attacker’s throat only to hear a bloodcurdling scream in return. He dropped his hand and opened his eyes, his heart racing as he looked at a fully human Derek as he stumbled back from the bed with a hand to his neck. Jordan moved his arms and legs freely, moving his hands along his body, checking for any signs of the fire that had scorched his skin. He closed his eyes and laid his head back against his pillow, running a hand through his sweat-damp hair. It had only been a dream. He was alive. He was okay.

Hearing a soft thud, Jordan hesitantly opened his eyes to find Derek on the floor, staring at him in horror. Jordan’s eyebrows furrowed, his gaze falling to the hand covering Derek’s neck. He slowly got to his feet, his hands quivering with adrenaline.

“Derek?” he questioned quietly, taking a step toward him.

Derek quickly slid back, putting his hands up to ward Jordan off when he made a move to help him up. “No, don’t touch me.”

Jordan stopped short, eyes zeroing in on the red, inflamed skin on Derek’s neck. He breathed in sharply, his hand automatically moving to touch it.

Derek jerked away from his touch. “Don’t touch me!”

Jordan stopped himself and took a deliberate step away from the man on the floor, folding his hands together so he wouldn’t be tempted. “I didn’t -- did -- did I do that?”

Derek swallowed roughly, watching Jordan closely, and nodded wordlessly.

“I’m-” Jordan’s words caught on his tongue when Derek’s gaze fell to the floor. Jordan followed his gaze, cringing at the sight of the old newspaper articles gathered around his feet. Jordan hadn’t meant to read about the Hale fire. Hell, he hadn’t even meant to find the articles. Gnawing at his bottom lip, Jordan glanced up at Derek apologetically. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. I was looking for something to write with and found them in the drawer-”

Derek shook his head absently, blinking distractedly. “Lydia and Stiles are downstairs with Deaton. They think they’ve found something.”

Jordan frowned, but nodded, checking himself over to make sure he was fully clothed this time. He scratched at the back of his neck and moved toward the door. He paused when he realized Derek wasn’t getting up. “You coming?”

Derek sat stiffly, staring at the articles, and touched his fingertips to his neck. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

Jordan’s frown deepened, gaze moving from Derek’s hand to the floor. “I’m sorry.”

Derek didn’t respond and Jordan sighed, briefly touching a hand to the man’s shoulder before leaving the room.

Derek sat still for a moment, listening as Jordan retreated down the staircase. Running nimble fingertips along the burn on his neck, Derek frowned and got to his feet, slowly making his way toward the articles that littered the floor. He stooped down, grabbing for the nearest one and clutching it tightly in his fist. He stared at the headline, “Hale Estate up in Flames, No Known Survivors” before picking up the next one about Peter’s admission to the hospital. His fingers danced over the next two, both brief summaries about Derek and Laura surviving the fire and inheriting the land. He picked the rest up quickly, not willing to take a trip down memory lane at the moment. He got to his feet and opened the drawer of the nightstand, shoving the articles away for the time being.

He took a deep, steadying breath and wiped his hands over his face. The burn one his neck still stung and he ran his finger over it, pushing any thoughts of the Hale fire out of his mind. He sighed and followed after Jordan, knowing they’d be waiting for him.

Jordan got to his feet as soon as Derek entered the room, looking him over in concern. Derek frowned, but otherwise ignored him, looking to Deaton with a raised eyebrow. “What did you find?”

Deaton glanced between the two of them knowingly, but didn’t say anything about the tension between the two of them. Instead, he cleared his throat and turned to Jordan. “Stiles and Lydia have shown me what they’ve found in your bedroom. There was a mixture of herbs, a few of which are incredibly rare around this part of the United States.”

“At first we just thought you had been baking or something-” Stiles began.

Lydia raised a condescending eyebrow. “No, _you_ thought that. I thought you were being an idiot.”

Deaton shook his head at them, reaching into his pocket and pulling out four vials. He set them down carefully on the table, motioning for everyone to look at them. “There were four herbs that we were able to recover from the ashes. Cassia and golden myrrh are both herbs that come from the East. Cassia are the yellow flowers of a Chinese cinnamon tree and golden myrrh is often found in African corkwood. Both of these could only be bred in the United States under the right conditions. There were also traces of spikenard and shreds of cinnamon, although not as much could be recovered.”

Jordan furrowed his eyebrows, looking around at all of them. “I don’t get it. What does that mean, exactly?”

“Well, that’s what we’re trying to figure out,” Deaton replied, frowning in thought. “Tell me, Deputy...what do you remember about your childhood?”

Jordan was caught off guard by the question and he floundered for a moment, glancing around at everyone for some sort of explanation. When he didn’t get one, he shrugged. “Well, I -- my childhood was fairly normal. I had two parents, I went to school--” He shrugged again. “--it was normal.”

“Yes, but what details do you remember?” Deaton questioned. “Any significant memories? What were your parents like?”

Jordan opened his mouth to reply, but closed it again with a small huff. He crossed his arms over his chest defensively, feeling suddenly exposed. “I don’t remember much.”

Deaton nodded slowly, glancing down at the herbs in his hands. “As I expected.”

Derek raised an eyebrow, glancing between Lydia and Stiles. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Lydia opened her mouth to respond, but Deaton answered before she could.

“There is a creature-” he began cryptically. “-an ancient creature that is reborn every one hundred years.”

Lydia pursed her lips and nodded, turning her gaze on Jordan. “And whenever it is attacked--”

“It kills itself so it can be reborn again,” Stiles interrupted, smiling proudly.

Lydia glared at him, stressing, “It _regenerates_.”

“You guys are making it sound like I’m some sort of alien that flies around in a blue police box,” Jordan muttered, trying to absorb all the information. He couldn't lie, all of this sounded a bit far-fetched to him. Werewolves and psychics, he could believe...but regenerating, hundred-year-old creatures that never truly died? That wasn’t possible; immortality wasn’t real.

“Well, you got the flying part right,” Stiles supplied unhelpfully, receiving an elbow in the gut from Lydia. Stiles yelped and jumped away from her, spreading his arms. “What? It’s true!”

Lydia rolled her eyes before returning her attention to Jordan, who seemed even more confused than when they’d started. She took a deep breath before picking up the herbs and approaching Jordan, setting them in his hands. “All of the herbs we found match the description we found in the bestiary. When the creature is ready to be reborn, it makes a funeral pile. In the pile are a variety of spices -- cassia flowers, spikenard, and cinnamon being a few of them. In order to be reborn--”

“The creature sets itself on fire,” Derek muttered in realization, staring hard at the floor.

Lydia glanced at him and nodded, closing Jordan’s hand over the spices. “And after the fire extinguishes, the remains are wrapped in golden myrrh to complete the ritual.”

Jordan stared at her hands over his, his eyebrows drawing together. The pieces clicked together in his mind and he frowned. “Why does this ritual sound so familiar to me?”

“Because it is a well-known myth,” Deaton explained with a small frown. “It is the myth of the phoenix.”

**

Derek sat quietly at the head of the dinner table while Jordan sat across from him. The two still hadn’t talked about what happened or what they’d found out about Jordan’s identity. Although they knew he wasn’t in immediate danger anymore, Jordan’s home was still a crime scene and he was still out of a job until further notice, leaving him with nowhere else to go.

With Derek’s silence, Jordan felt like more of a burden than he had before. He knew he crossed some boundaries by going through Derek’s things, but he never meant to hurt Derek. He was a cop and naturally curious. Besides, he hadn’t read anything in the articles that he hadn’t already heard from people around town. He just wished Derek would talk to him.

The way Jordan saw it, if he really was a phoenix, him and Derek weren’t so different. Although they were different creatures and one of them could never die, Jordan had outlived anyone he had ever loved just as Derek had. Although he couldn’t remember his past lives it was inevitable that he had experienced loss at some point. He wasn’t familiar with Derek’s pain, but he could sympathize.

Jordan set down his fork and cleared his throat, looking up apprehensively. “Derek-”

“You could have destroyed those articles,” Derek interrupted briskly. At Jordan’s raised eyebrows, Derek continued, “You burned me. You could have easily burned one of my articles too or set them on fire.”

Jordan’s eyes fell to the uncovered burn on Derek’s neck with a frown. “I was-”

“You were scared and you lashed out,” Derek conceded, setting down his fork and turning a steady gaze on the deputy. “You don’t have control over your powers...and that makes you dangerous.” Derek paused, grabbing his half-empty plate and taking it to the sink. He heaved in a steadying breath and gripped the edge of the sink. “I don’t know why you set yourself on fire the other night, but until we figure out what’s triggering it and how to stop it, I think you should stay away from the pack.”

Jordan sat back with wide eyes, his hands curling into fists. He got to his feet. “Why? Derek, I didn’t mean to hurt you-”

Derek turned to him with a fierce glare. “I know you didn’t mean to. A lot of us don’t _mean_ to hurt anyone. But until you learn to control your powers, you’re dangerous to everyone around you. And I can’t-” Derek stopped himself, breathing in through his nose and clenching his jaw. “-I can’t lose anyone else in a fire.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sooo sorry this took me so long to post! I've had it planned for a while, but I got so busy with school and work that I had no time to write it! I hope it lived up to everyone's expectations. I would say that the next chapter won't take as long, but last time I said that it was a lie, so I won't say anything at all! I hope you've all had a merry Christmas and I hope you have a wonderful New Year!! Thank you for all the support on this story! I'm so glad you guys are enjoying it! <333


	6. Burn Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The beauty of this mess is that it brings me close to you." --Sleep Baby Sleep, Broods

Jordan made it a point to stay away from Derek over the next few days. Other than meeting for meals, Jordan kept to himself, resigning to Derek’s guestroom to stay out of the way. Stiles and Lydia were still working on finding an answer to why Jordan had set himself on fire and Deaton had left town to consult with an expert on how to control Jordan’s powers. Derek didn’t say much other than what needed to be said and the rest of the pack stayed clear of the loft. Jordan knew it had something to do with Derek asking for Jordan’s privacy, but he didn’t really want to be alone.

In fact, Jordan felt more lonely now than ever. Not only did he not have a job to keep him busy or anyone to talk to about what was happening to him, he also had the reminder that he was going to outlive everyone around him. He wasn’t sure how this life worked, but he figured he would have to leave Beacon Hills eventually, although he didn’t really want to. Despite being mostly alone, Jordan felt at home in Beacon Hills. He felt like he belonged there, like he had a reason to stay.

Except, as he thought about it, he couldn’t think of a reasonable explanation as to why he had moved to Beacon Hills in the first place. He didn’t have any ties here and the consistent deaths in the police force certainly hadn’t drawn him here. However, something _had_ drawn him here, some need that he couldn’t quite understand. For some reason, he knew this was where he needed to be. This was his home now. How could he possibly just sit here and let some assassins take it away from him?

A knock at the door pulled Jordan from his thoughts and he folded his hands over his stomach. Derek opened the door a moment later, peeking his head in. It was the same routine as that morning and the evening before. Derek didn’t dare to wake Jordan up anymore or approach him if he was sleeping. Jordan figured that he was afraid of when Jordan would spontaneously combust again. The burn on Derek’s neck was healing well enough, but it still caught Jordan’s eye every time they were in the same room.

“You didn’t come down for dinner,” Derek muttered quietly, easing into the room after noticing that he was awake.

Jordan blinked in surprise, swinging his legs over the mattress and sitting up. “I didn’t know it was done.”

Derek raised an eyebrow, opening the door further to step fully into the room. “I yelled to you an hour ago.” Derek looked at the unslept-in bed with a frown, returning his attention to the ragged-looking deputy. “When was the last time you slept?”

Jordan scoffed and ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to make it look more presentable. So what if he had let himself go a little? It wasn’t like he had anyone to impress while he sat here alone in Derek’s guestroom. Plus, why would he want to sleep when every time he did someone ended up burned? “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine.”

Derek raised an eyebrow. He didn’t need to have super hearing to know that was a lie. He sighed, taking a seat on the bed next to Jordan. He folded his hands over his lap and stared down at them, his eyebrows furrowed in contemplation. He knew he needed to choose his words wisely. Clearly what he said had more of an impact on Jordan than he thought if the man was losing sleep because of them.

“I know you’re not fine,” Derek finally admitted, glancing at Jordan out of the corner of his eye. “Nobody would be in your position.” Derek watched in concern as Jordan frowned and shied away from him. “Look, I know you didn’t mean to hurt anyone...but you understand why I don’t want you around the others, don’t you?”

Jordan licked his lips and raised his gaze to the opposing wall, twisting his hands together. “Because I’m dangerous.”

Derek suppressed his smile before it could touch his lips and cleared his throat. “Because I’m selfish.”

Jordan raised an eyebrow at him and Derek’s lips quirked at the edges.

“We’re all in danger,” Derek explained. “Whether you’re around the pack or not, they have reason to fear for their lives. These assassins aren’t going to stop just because they failed to kill one of us. They’re going to keep coming back until every name on that list is crossed off.”

Jordan shook his head in confusion. “I don’t understand how that makes you selfish.”

Derek bit the inside of his cheek to ward off his smile and nodded his head once. “I’m selfish because I don’t want them to die in a fire like my family, but the truth is you’re not the one I should be protecting them from.” Derek nudged his shoulder against Jordan’s with a small smile. “You may be dangerous until you learn to control your powers, but you’re not the enemy. You’re one of us.”

Jordan ducked his head with a smile. As he replayed the last few days, however, his smile slowly dropped. “I’m sorry about the news articles. I never should have touched them.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” Derek agreed, making Jordan duck his head even lower. Derek rolled his eyes and smirked, nudging Jordan with his elbow. “But they’re just articles. Even if I want to, I don’t think I could ever forget what happened to my family.”

“Why did she do it?” Jordan asked before he could stop himself, his eyes widening.

Derek shrugged off his concern. “She came from a family of hunters. The Argents-”

“You mean Chris and Allison?” Jordan immediately asked, his eyes wide in shock.

“Chris used to be one of them,” Derek nodded. “He’s not anymore. After Allison became close with the pack, they came up with a new code, but the rest of their family still believes that werewolves are monsters. They think we’re dangerous. Some of us are, but there are a lot of packs that believe in maintaining peace. My family was one of them.”

Derek frowned down at his hands, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. After all this time, it was still hard for him to think about what Kate had done. He didn’t understand what had possessed her to go after his family. They had never done anything wrong or drawn too much attention to themselves. At times it was hard to train the newborn werewolves, but they never lost control or attacked anyone. As far as he knew, he was the only one who had ever actually hurt someone...and that was only because he had no other choice. He would have saved Paige if he had known how to, but he didn’t and he had to end her suffering.

Feeling a hand on his shoulder, Derek closed his eyes and drew in a steadying breath. He hadn’t meant to get so emotional over a pile of articles. They were nothing but paper...but it seemed that those few pieces of paper held a lot more memories than Derek realized.

Jordan wanted to apologize for what Derek’s ex had done to his family, for the pain that she had caused him, but he knew an apology wasn’t what Derek wanted or needed to hear.

“Your family would be proud of you,” Jordan said instead, flexing his fingers over Derek’s shoulder. Derek didn’t respond, but tilted his head to the side, listening. Jordan smiled sadly. “You care about people, Derek. You do your best to protect them. Keeping me from your pack may not have been the best way to protect them, but at least you were trying. And you’re even protecting me by letting me stay with you. I don’t know much about werewolves or being in a pack, but isn’t that what a family does? Look out for one another?”

Derek snuck a glance at the man beside him, a small smile twitching at his lips. He thought about it for a moment, wondering why he had wanted to keep Jordan away from the pack in the first place. He had been wrong to push him away. Jordan really wasn’t the one they should be worrying about.

Derek nodded slowly. “Yeah, that’s exactly what they do.”

Jordan returned his smile, squeezing his shoulder one last time before letting go. They settled into a comfortable silence for the moment, with the two of them staring at the opposing wall. Their silence only ended because Derek’s stomach grumbled. Jordan glanced at him and raised an accusatory eyebrow. “Have you eaten yet?”

Derek shifted uncomfortably, expression contorting into a defensive scowl. “I was waiting to see if you were going to come down.”

Jordan’s smile widened, lips parting to show his teeth, and he rolled his eyes. “I would have come down eventually.” Getting to his feet, he stretched his stiff limbs and gestured for Derek to get up. “Well, come on. You’re obviously hungry.”

Derek snorted and stifled a yawn with the back of his hand. The truth was, he hadn’t been sleeping well the past few nights either. He had been waiting for a fire that never came, waiting for Jordan to wake up to flames and pain. He rubbed his palms over his eyes before looking at Jordan, who was still waiting for him by the door. He offered him a small smile. “Thank you.”

Jordan tilted his head to the side. “For what?”

Derek’s smile widened as he got to his feet. “For what you said. I don’t hear things like that a lot.”

Pursing his lips, Jordan stared hard at Derek’s chest in thought. After a moment, his eyes moved to meet Derek’s. “Well, you should.”

Derek stared at Jordan in silence, thinking to himself. “Thank you,” he muttered distractedly.

Jordan nodded with a smirk, slapping the back of his hand on Derek’s chest. “Anytime. Now let’s go eat, Sourwolf.”

Derek closed his eyes as Jordan quickly made his way out the door, a small growl of annoyance grumbling in his chest. He shook his head, shouting after the deputy, “I’m going to kill Stiles.”

**

“You’re never going to kill Stiles if you don’t learn to hold a gun properly,” Jordan chastised, positioning Derek’s arms so they were back in the appropriate position.

“Wait, what?” Stiles spluttered, his eyes going wide as he looked between the two of them. He raised his hands in defense. “Who’s killing Stiles? I vote that no one kills Stiles. Is that why Derek wanted to learn to use a gun? Is that why you brought me out here? To shoot me?”

“If you don’t stop talking, I might actually shoot you,” Derek growled in annoyance, changing his stance according to what Jordan showed him. Jordan placed a steadying hand on Derek’s shoulder and placed the other on the gun, pushing down on his hands so they were positioned lower.

“Good, now hold the gun tightly with your dominant hand,” Jordan directed, watching as Derek did as he was told. “Make sure that it’s tight enough that your hand starts shaking.”

“How am I going to shoot straight if my hand is shaking?” Derek questioned, but did as he was told.

Jordan rolled his eyes, glad that Derek was listening to him regardless of his skepticism. He was quickly learning that Derek wasn’t a very patient learner, nor was he very experienced with a firearm. “You want to have a good enough handle on the gun so you don’t drop it. Once it’s tight enough that your hand starts to shake, relax your hand a little, but not too much. You want to maintain a firm grip.”

“I can think of another thing that you’d want to maintain a firm grip on,” Stiles muttered suggestively, sending them both a wink.

“You know, you probably shouldn’t be saying stuff like that to someone with a gun,” Derek threatened, shooting him a glare.

“Focus,” Jordan ordered, rolling his eyes toward Stiles and shaking his head at him. “Are you here to learn something or did you actually want Derek to end up shooting you at some point?”

Derek grinned sarcastically. “I wouldn’t mind shooting him in the leg.”

Stiles frowned, scrunching his nose as he leaned against a nearby tree. “You know, that’s not as intimidating as you ripping my throat out.”

Derek lowered his weapon and lifted an eyebrow. “If you’d rather me rip out your throat, I’m sure I could figure something out.”

Jordan looked between the two of them in exasperation. “Are you guys always like this?”

“Yes, they are,” Lydia piped up as she made her way through the trees of the preserve, lifting a perfectly sculpted eyebrow when Stiles looked ready to argue. “They’re both idiots.” She pursed her lips and looked at Derek, raising her eyebrows. “Learn how to shoot yet?”

Jordan rolled his eyes and helped Derek get back in position. “He would be an expert by now if he would just focus.”

“Stiles-” Derek began.

“Stiles and I will be going,” Lydia interrupted, gripping Stiles's bicep and pulling him along.

“Wait, what?” Stiles protested, flailing as he was pulled through the trees. “But I wanted to see this!”

“You should have thought of that before you opened your mouth,” Lydia sing-songed, looking over her shoulder. “I expect you to know how to shoot that thing next time I see you, Hale!”

Derek stared after them with a frown, only jerking out of it when Jordan fixed his hands again. Derek sighed in frustration and lowered his arms, keeping the gun aimed at the ground as he turned to the deputy. “Is all of this really necessary? Why can’t I just shoot?”

Jordan huffed out a laugh and shook his head before realizing that Derek was serious. He waved a hand at the target they’d set up on the other end of the clearing and stepped back. “You want to shoot? Go right ahead. I’m not stopping you. Just don’t forget to release the safety.”

Derek grumbled and raised his arms while releasing the safety, squinting an eye like they do in the movies to get a better look at the target. He could see Jordan out of the corner of his eye pull on a set of earmuffs and cross his arms over his chest. Derek tried to ignore the expectant look on the deputy’s face and returned his attention to his target, taking a deep breath before squeezing the trigger. The muffled _boom_ of the gun and the resulting crack of a branch splintering echoed through the preserve. Derek removed his earmuffs and narrowed his eyes in the direction he’d shot the gun.

“You missed your target,” Jordan commented, and Derek turned to him to find him smiling smugly.

Derek grit his teeth and lowered the gun. “This is pointless. I don't _use_ weapons. I’m better with claws.”

Jordan sighed and took the gun from Derek as he began fiddling with it, setting the safety. “I told you, it takes practice. You can’t expect to be a pro the first time you shoot a gun.”

“I need to be prepared,” Derek growled in agitation.

“And you will be,” Jordan rebutted, squeezing Derek’s shoulder reassuringly. “You just need to practice...and actually listen to what I’m trying to teach you.”

Derek observed him closely, his mouth set in a firm line. He breathed heavily through his nose and nodded once, taking the pistol from Jordan’s hands and turning back to the target. He really hoped this paid off in the end. He was getting tired of not being able to defend himself.

He gripped the gun tightly in his hand, his hand shaking, and grit his teeth. He just wanted his powers back. He wasn’t meant to be human. He didn’t even know how to function as one.

Putting a steadying hand on Derek’s shoulder and another hand on Derek’s hands to reposition them, Jordan sighed. “We’ll figure it out, Derek. Just be patient.”

Derek huffed. He hoped Jordan was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seeee, when I don't say anything about the next chapter not taking forever I get it up sooner! ;)
> 
> Happy New Year everyone! I hope you're enjoying this story as much as I'm enjoying writing it! Thank you, once again, for all your support! You're all amazing<3


	7. Caught in a Riptide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chaos ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I apologize for the delay with this chapter. School is drowning me in papers and difficult concepts to understand. I hope this was worth the wait though! Thank you for all the kudos! You are all so wonderful<3

 

Jordan couldn’t sleep. He laid quietly in Derek’s guestroom, staring at the ceiling and wondering when his life had become such a mess. Apparently his life had been like this for a while and he hadn’t even known. It was odd to think that he had lifetimes worth of memories he couldn’t remember. How old was he anyway? How long had be been twenty-four?

He groaned and rolled onto his stomach, hiding his face in a pillow. He wanted his life back. The life he had before werewolves and assassins and thousand-year-old phoenixes. When had his life become an episode of Supernatural anyway?

He didn’t know if he’d ever get used to this. How long would he have to fear for his life? For the life of others? Would he ever learn to control his powers and stop being a danger to everyone around him? Because Derek had been right. Until he learned what he could do and how to do it, he was dangerous. Until he learned how to fall asleep without setting himself on fire in his sleep, he was dangerous. Jordan didn’t know who he was more afraid of -- the assassins hunting him or himself.

“Derek!” Scott’s panicked cry echoed through the loft and Jordan scrambled to his feet, hearing the thunder of Derek’s footsteps as he fled down the staircase. Jordan quickly pulled on a pair of sweatpants and followed after him, coming to a stuttered stop at the bottom of the staircase. He surveyed the scene in front of him, a sweatpants-clad Derek stooped down next to a pained and bleeding Scott McCall. Derek’s hands shook as they pressed at the boy’s abdomen in an attempt to stunt the bleeding.

Derek looked at the older man in panic. “Jordan, get something to stop the bleeding. A -- a towel or --”

“No,” Scott gasped urgently, grippingly loosely at Derek’s hands. “No, Derek. Stiles -- Stiles is gone. They took Stiles.”

Derek’s face crumpled in confusion. “He’s not even on the list.”

Scott nodded, weakly fishing a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and nudging it against Derek’s bloodied knuckles. Derek reluctantly removed pressure from Scott’s abdomen and unfolded the paper, careful not to leave smudges across the page. Derek fell back off his haunches, sitting heavily on the floor and staring at the words on the page.

Jordan furrowed his eyebrows, looking between the two men in front of him before approaching them slowly. Apprehensively, the deputy peered over Derek’s shoulder. The paper in Derek’s hands was a new copy of the list, an increased bounty next to their names. At the very bottom, in penned handwriting was Stiles’s name, standing out on the page in bright red letters. Jordan looked from Derek to Scott, shaking his head. “What does that mean? Is Stiles one of us?”

Derek and Scott exchanged a look and Derek huffed, crumpling the paper in his hand. “No, but he’s pack.” Derek bowed his head, glaring at the floor. His jaw muscles flexed as he clenched his jaw. “And that makes him valuable.”

**

“Can someone please tell me how a human, _my son_ , is on some supernatural hit list?” the sheriff demanded. “And why is there such a large bounty on his head? He doesn’t even have three thousand dollars to his name!”

Jordan glanced around at everyone. After cleaning Scott’s wound so it could heal -- which Jordan had been endlessly impressed by -- Derek had called for an emergency meeting at the loft. And since the sheriff’s department was being criticized for the increased murders and attempted arson, the sheriff had to be called out of work.

Jordan briefly remembered when he, himself, had been confused by the bounty. He still had a hard time understanding why he was worth so much money. But Stiles? He was human. He was harmless...which also made him defenseless.

“He was getting close to figuring things out,” Lydia said faintly. She was standing by the window, leaning back against the table and staring unseeingly across the room. She crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head, glancing around at everyone with vulnerable eyes. “I should have been there with him. I shouldn’t have left him alone--”

“Hey,” Malia interrupted, touching Lydia’s arm. Lydia startled and closed her eyes to collect herself. Malia offered her a sympathetic smile. “This isn’t your fault. Did Stiles tell you any of what he found?”

Lydia frowned, but nodded. “Yeah, a few things.”

“Good,” Malia nodded, rubbing Lydia’s arm and turning to the rest of the pack. “Why don’t I go with Lydia to Stiles’s house and see what we can find?”

Kira nodded, stepping to their side. “That’s a great idea! I’ll come along.” She smiled at Lydia and added, “Just in case.”

Sheriff Stilinski’s beeper went off and he swore under his breath, pulling it off his belt to read the short message. He closed his eyes and took a moment to calm himself before shoving the beeper back in place. “I have to get back to work.” He fixed Scott with a stern look. “You let me know what you guys find. I want my son back.”

Scott nodded, allowing himself to be pulled into a tight embrace before the sheriff collected himself with a deep breath and nodded at Parrish before leaving.

Derek pursed his lips, looking to Scott. “Why don’t you walk me through what happened tonight? Maybe we can find a clue and figure out where they went.”

Jordan furrowed his eyebrows and glanced at Liam, motioning to him as he spoke. “What should we do?”

Jordan looked at Derek for guidance while Liam turned to Scott. Derek breathed evenly through his nose, barely offering Jordan a glance.

“You should stay here,” Derek murmured at the same time Scott told Liam they could use the extra help.

Jordan frowned, looking between Scott’s apologetic frown and Derek’s determined scowl. “What? I can’t just stay here.”

Derek glanced around at everyone before making his way up the staircase, Jordan following closely behind. “You’re dangerous.”

“Only when I’m asleep,” Jordan justified, following Derek into his room. He watched as Derek threw open his sock drawer and unburied his gun, retrieving a box full of ammo from the bottom drawer. “Admit it, you need me.”

Derek turned to him with a raised eyebrow, loading his gun and checking the safety before tucking it into his jeans and covering it with his shirt.

“What I _need_ is to find Stiles,” Derek stated gruffly, shrugging into his leather jacket and pushing past the deputy.

“And what are you going to do if you find him?” he demanded, grabbing for Derek’s arm before promptly removing it at Derek’s glare. “What are you going to do if the assassins decide to attack you? You haven’t shot a gun at a moving target yet.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “I’m going to have an alpha and beta werewolf at my side. I think I’ll be okay.”

“You think,” Jordan repeated with a humorless laugh. “Let me come with you. They want a fight? Let them have one. There’s no way they can take down two werewolves and a phoenix all at once. Besides, I’m a cop, if anyone can find Stiles, I can.”

That made Derek pause. He observed the deputy for a moment, his lips a thin line as he thought over what Jordan had said.

Derek looked him over calculatingly. “It’ll be dangerous. Worse than you’ve seen in the field.”

Jordan scoffed. “I’ve been to war, been shot in the stomach, and have been set on fire multiple times. I’m pretty sure I can handle dangerous.” At Derek’s hesitance, Jordan sighed, “Plus, I’m a lot better with a gun than you are.”

Derek snorted and shook his head. “Fine, grab your gun and let’s get out of here. The sooner we find Stiles, the better.”

Jordan grinned, clapping a hand on Derek’s shoulder before heading to get his gun from the guest room. “I knew you’d come around.”

Derek rolled his eyes and tried to stifle his smirk as he descended the staircase, shaking his head on the way down. “Sure you did.”

**

Jordan didn’t know what to expect upon arriving at Scott’s house, but he didn’t expect to see so much blood. He looked around in poorly-stifled horror, glancing toward Scott every-now-and-then as he recounted the evening. The majority of the blood was from Scott, which made Jordan a bit dizzy at the thought of losing so much blood and still being able to walk in a straight line, let alone run all the way to Derek’s loft for help. He swallowed thickly and shook his head, trying to focus on any other details that might be important -- any other clues that would tell them where Stiles was.

“How do we know Stiles was even taken? How do we know he didn’t just run for it or follow a lead?” Liam questioned, glancing around Scott’s room, where a pile of papers littered the floor. He glanced at Scott tentatively.

“He wasn’t home when I went to go check on him,” Scott explained, furrowing his eyebrows. He turned to Derek. “He wouldn’t just disappear like that without telling someone, not with all the murders lately. Not unless he had no other choice.”

Derek nodded shortly, stooping down to sift through the papers on the floor.

“What I don’t understand is why they just left like this,” Jordan mentioned hesitantly, looking over Derek’s shoulder. “The assassins didn’t even stick around to make sure Scott was dead. You’d think they’d want to make sure he was dead so they could collect the bounty.”

“Not necessarily,” Derek answered, picking up one of the papers and reading over the freshly printed list. He scanned it quickly before sighing and dropping it to the floor. “They weren’t interested in killing Scott.” He stood up and turned his full attention to the others. “They were sending a message. A pack is only as strong as its weakest member. As a human, Stiles was ours.”

Jordan frowned, eyeing Derek in concern. “But aren’t you technically hum--”

Derek scowled and nodded. “But I’m also a former werewolf, meaning I’m not as weak as I appear.” He went quiet for a moment, gazing out the window in contemplation. “Neither is Stiles, but they don’t know that.”

“It’s probably best if it stays that way,” Jordan remarked, looking between all of them. “The less they know about Stiles, the better.” He paused, frowning. “The biggest question is, how are we going to find him without any leads?”

Derek’s frown deepened and he glanced around the room, his eyebrows pulled together in thought. There had to be something they were missing.

The sound of Scott’s phone ringing broke the group’s tense silence and they all turned to stare at Scott as he fished his phone out of his pocket. He read the screen and glanced up at them. “It’s a text from Lydia. She says they think they’ve found something, but they’re not sure. She says we should see it for ourselves.”

**

When they reached the Stilinski household, Scott led the way to Stiles’s room. Jordan treaded carefully through his boss’s home, feeling a bit out of place without the sheriff there. When they came to Stiles's bedroom, Jordan stopped short.

He was a little surprised to see the corkboard on the wall, covered in red strings and crime scene photos from all the murders across town. He observed the board from a distance, crossing his arms over his chest at the sight of his own picture off to the left side of the board, connected with yellow string to pictures of the fires he’d been involved in. He followed a green string, leading away from him to a picture of a phoenix.

“What do the strings mean?” he questioned, looking around at everyone and realizing he’d interrupted something.

Lydia frowned at him, but directed her attention to the board. She touched her finger to a red string that was drawn tight between a man’s side profile, the deep v-neck visible even from the side, and a blonde woman carrying a gun. “Red is unsolved.” She moved her fingertips along the string, her fingers ghosting briefly over the man’s photo before moving to the yellow string between him and the benefactor. “Yellow means to be determined.”

“Green means solved,” Malia finished for her, pointing toward Jordan’s photo and the phoenix.

Jordan furrowed his eyebrows, glancing over the photos and following the strings. There was a blue string wrapped around a yellow one, leading from Derek’s side profile to the woman holding the gun. As far as he could see, it was the only blue string on the board. He pointed to it. “What about blue?”

Lydia lifted an eyebrow, her gaze moving to Derek pointedly as she stated flatly, “Blue means pretty.”

Jordan blinked in slight surprise, looking between Lydia, Derek, and the board, wondering if “pretty” referred to Derek or the woman on the other side of the string.

“Not relevant,” Kira sighed impatiently, moving toward the board. “Look, Stiles has a yellow string going from Eichen House to the benefactor. Did he mention anything about Eichen to any of you?”

“He never mentioned anything to me,” Scott mumbled, looking to Derek hopefully. Derek shook his head reluctantly, lips pulling into a frown.

“Lydia, you’ve seen this board before, right?” Jordan questioned. “Was the connection there the last time you saw it?”

Lydia shook her head, moving to Stiles’s computer and typing in the password. “No, which makes me think he only figured something out recently.” She tapped around on the computer, pulling up Stiles's search history. “Stiles never researches anything without clearing his web history--” she explained, highlighting something on the screen before clicking the last page he visited. “--but, for some reason, he hasn’t cleared it for a couple days. Look what he visited last.”

Everyone crowded around her, looking over her shoulder to see what she’d found.

“How did he--” Liam started.

“He solved the case,” Jordan murmured in astonishment.


End file.
